He put his hands at the sides of herwaist and guided her towards the bed until the back of her knees felt theslight pressure, pushing her whole body down. “I’ve never been to your room.” Hewhispered as he slowly began to take off his shirt but even if the musicalityof his voice was implying a question, the cold fact behind his simple words wasgradually starting to reveal and undress a truth that knew no rhetoric. “Oneday, you knocked on my door and you walked right in. You said you neededsomeone to talk to… You sat on my bed, exactly like you did just now. The followingday you came back, and you sat on my bed again. This time, I sat next to you,”he went on, his voice soft and silky, far from the roaring thunder she was soused to by now. Mimicking his words, he sat down on his own bed, right next toher, his hands landing on his knees, “You came back some other day, and thenagain, day after day. One day you used my shower; one day you asked me if youcould stay the night…” He grinned at himself, softly, almost peacefully, “Iknew you wanted to stay – knew you would have liked to stay many, many timesbefore that night.” Lifting her chin with his fingers, the archer moved closerto her mouth and there he stayed, gravitating near her, “There were some signs,in between those days and nights, that I should have seen: how you started todance again, how you began to express the need to share a bed again, to havesomeone… to belong with someone.” He pressed his forehead against hers andclosed his eyes for a brief moment, “Then you took off your clothes, and evenwhen I said no I have to admit: it felt natural. That’s how the sea weathersthe stone; after all… that’s how the waters take over the shore. That’s how youbegan to overcome her, to go back tobeing the one you were before her.”His hands on her temples, bringing her closer – impossibly closer to him now. “Andso I asked myself, time and time again: who am I to stop her from being the oneshe was supposed to be?”
